


Dungeons & Dragons: Trial by Combat

by LucianCarter72



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Fantasy, Screenplay/Script Format, Trial by Combat, corrupt ruler, gladiator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 13:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19831192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucianCarter72/pseuds/LucianCarter72
Summary: Falsely accused of treason, a soldier must battle in the arena to prove his innocence.





	Dungeons & Dragons: Trial by Combat

INT. SENATE CHAMBER. TORCHLIGHT

The senate room looks like Ancient Rome, circa the third century A.D. The seats ring two sides of the hall with raised levels. At one end of the hall is the main entrance, a heavy set of wooden doors. At the other sits an empty throne. The center of the chamber is an open floor. Torches light the hall, which has no windows. It is full of men, mostly middle aged or older. Most wear togas, though a few are in dress military regalia. There is a general din and murmur of voices but nothing can be made out. We focus on the empty throne at the focal point of the room. There is a curtained off area behind the throne. A HERALD enters from behind the curtain and the noise of the crowd quiets slightly.

HERALD (booming voice): All rise for Emperor Marcus the third!

Those not already standing rise and the noise quickly dies away. We focus again on the curtain as a man in an opulent purple and gold toga secured with a fine jeweled fibula (brooch-like pin). This is EMPEROR MARCUS III. There is applause from the crowd but it is more polite than enthusiastic. The Emperor moves to the throne and sits. Only once he’s seated do those in the audience take their seats as well. The Emperor opens his left hand and a small, shiny steel ball magically rises from his palm, floats to above his head and begins circling around above it. When the Emperor speaks the ball magically amplifies his voice so it is heard clearly throughout the senate chamber.

EMPEROR (steely and imposing): Bring forth the prisoner.

The camera pans to the far end of the hall where the heavy doors open and two CENTURIONS lead a man in chains into the room. The man wears a soldier’s uniform. Not an opulent dress uniform but simple chain mail armor worn with years of battle. He has a polished shield strapped to his back but has no weapons. The man’s face is dirty but he looks handsome and strong nonetheless. He is half led, half dragged to the center of the open floor. There is a murmur from the crowd neither positive nor negative, more curious and surprised. The prisoner stands staring coldly at the Emperor. The Emperor returns his gaze for a long moment then looks away and motions for silence.

EMPEROR: Eques Lucillius, you stand accused of plotting to overthrow the rightful Emperor. I have heard the evidence. Have you anything to say for yourself?

LUCILLIUS (quietly): Yes.

EMPEROR (commanding): Speak up!

LUCILLIUS (louder but flat and cold): Yes, I have something to say.

EMPEROR: Then speak.

LUCILLIUS: I am innocent of these charges. I have never acted or plotted against you. Many whisper about your excesses-

EMPEROR (indignant): Impertinence!

LUCILLIUS (continuing): But I am nothing but a loyal solider.

There is a murmur from the crowd, seemingly agreeing.

EMPEROR: Your past service to the empire is well known. Your campaign to quell the Lizardmen uprising is the stuff of legend. Your personal prowess is well known.

The crowd gets louder.

EMPEROR: But these are serious charges. Past heroics do not absolve you. So, the question becomes, what do we do now?

Lucillius speaks but is drowned out by the crowd.

EMPEROR: Silence! What did you say?

LUCILLIUS: I choose trial by combat.

The crowd roars to life.

EMPEROR: Silence. Silence!

He pauses, staring at the soldier with an odd expression, perhaps distaste?

EMPEROR: By ancient law it is your right. Are you certain you choose this path?

LUCILLIUS (determined): I am.

EMPEROR: Then so be it. Tomorrow your fate will be decided in the arena. Should you succeed all charges will be dropped. Should you fail you will die, and your body will be scattered to predators to prevent any hope of resurrection. Are you still certain?

LUCILLIUS (more determined): I am.

EMPEROR: As it has been so shall it be again. Centurions, take him away.

They lead him back the way he came. The Emperor watches until he is gone, the audience abuzz, then, without another word, turns and disappears behind the curtain, the floating ball returning to his palm.

EXT. CITY STREET. DAY

The streets are lined with people as a dozen Centurions lead Lucillius along them. While most of the crowd is watching Lucillius and most are crying out in support, vendors still shout, hawking their wares.

VENDOR #1: Potions, rings, charms for all occasions and purposes!

VENDOR #2: Exotic birds! Please the gods with a rare sacrifice!

VENDOR #3: Slaves for sale. Men! Women! Even children! Serve any purpose.

The crowd presses in on the Centurions. They stop advancing.

CENTURION #1 (quietly): What do we do if they riot?

CENTURION #2: We gut the prisoner and flee for our lives.

LUCILLIUS: Let me speak to them.

CENTURION #1: Silence prisoner.

LUCILLIUS: I swear by the god of war, I will calm them.

CENTURION #2: An odd god to choose to swear to make peace by.

CENTURION #1: I say we don’t risk it.

CENTURION #2: We have nothing to lose.

He draws his sword and points it at Lucillius’s throat.

CENTURION #2: Speak. But one word to incite them and I swear I’ll slit your throat.

Lucillius nods, clears his throat and raises his voice to the crowd. He shows more emotion than we’ve seen so far.

LUCILLIUS: People of Mitreus. Please, do not fear for me. I am an innocent man and I have chosen trial by combat. With the gods and justice on my side I know I shall prevail. Please, disperse, my fate will be decided tomorrow in the arena.

There is a shocked reaction from the crowd. Centurion #2 moves closer to Lucillius.

LUCILLIUS: Please, disperse, go about your lives. You have no hope to free me and any attempt would cost me my life. I beg you. Pray for me and, if you can, come to the arena to cheer me on.

The crowd seems uncertain. The centurions start moving again. The crowd slowly parts to allow them through. Centurion #2 looks at Lucillius with respect as they continue forward.

INT. ARENA, GLADIATOR’S CELLS - MIDDAY

The large holding area inside the arena houses a number of gladiators. Most are human males, some looking much more suited to combat than others. There is also an Orc, a Hobgoblin and a pair of Lizardmen. Some wear armor, a few even carry shields in their cells, but none have weapons.

The Centurions lead Lucillius into the halls. Guards meet them. The Centurions remove the chains from Lucillius. The guards open a cell door and shove Lucillius inside. Then the Centurions leave. There is a sound of sobbing off-screen. Lucillius looks around and sees a YOUNG MAN of about huddled in the corner of his cell, weeping. Lucillius’s eyes show empathy rather than disdain for the man.

LUCILLIUS: Greetings. It appears we are destined to share this cell for a time.

The man turns and looks at Lucillius, even though his tears recognition shows in his eyes.

YOUNG MAN (shock and awe): You! By the gods how are you here?

LUCILLIUS: It’s a long story. What are you known by?

YOUNG MAN (pulling himself together): Lieve is my name.

LUCILLUS: And I am…

LIEVE (interrupting): Every school child in Mitreus knows who you are. You’re a hero.

LUCILLIUS: To some. To some I stand accused of treason.

LIEVE (disbelieving): You?

LUCILLIUS: The charges are false. And I have chosen trial by combat. Tomorrow I shall acquit myself by my sword arm and the aid of the gods.

LIEVE: Tomorrow I die. I have no skill for combat. I am but a simple farmer.

LUCILLIUS: How did you come to be here?

LIEVE: My parents are farmers. Under the old Emperor we barely eked out a living. But when Emperor Marcus raised the taxes by 20% they fell behind. The Collector came and, when my father could not raise the coin, they took me instead. I was to be sold into slavery but the Arena Master purchased me. So tomorrow I fight and tomorrow I die.

Lucillius ponders then turns away.

LUCILLIUS (shouting): Guard!

A guard comes over to him.

GUARD (surly): What do you want you miserable Carrion Crawler?

LUCILLIUS: We seek to practice. We need weapons.

GUARD: Wooden swords only.

LUCILLIUS: One moment.

He turns back to Lieve.

LUCILLIUS: Strike me in the face as hard as you can.

LIEVE: What?

LUCIALLIUS (commanding): Do it!

LIEVE: I…I can’t…

LUCILLIUS (angry): Strike me you miserable plebian, or I shall strike you!

Lieve looks uncertain but he rears his right fist back and punches the soldier in the face. Lucillius barely flinches. He calmly turns back to the Guard.

LUCILLIUS: One long sword, one short.

The guard wanders to a rack of wooden weapons and starts selecting from them.

LIEVE: What are you doing?

LUCILLIUS: I am going to train you.

LIEVE: What’s the use?

LUCILLIUS: Even if a man must die he deserves to die fighting for his life. I’ve trained many men in my days. Many your age and younger. We won’t have much time but it can’t do you any harm.

The guard returns with two wooden swords. Lucillius takes them from him.

LUCILLIUS: You have my thanks.

The Guard grunts and walks away. Lucillius turns back to Lieve, holding out the shorter sword to him.

LUCILLIUS: You are fit at least. Working the farm has built your strength. Still, your best hope is the short sword. A long sword would tire you quickly.

LIEVE: I’m to fight with you? You’ll destroy me.

LUCILLIUS: And as I do you shall learn. First, to grip…

Montage, accompanied by instrumental music, shows him beginning to train Lieve. At first Lieve is hopeless. We cut back to real time action from time to time to show more details of their training.

LUCILLIUS: You should start at a distance. Your opponent will probably have a longer weapon. So avoid and block. Try to let him tire himself out. Anyone you face will see you as inexperienced. They’ll either try to defeat you quickly or toy with you to draw it out. Use that to your advantage, be on the defensive early.

More shots of Lucillius and Lieve sparring. Lucillius utterly dominates, repeated making contact with the farmer.

LUCILLIUS: That shot would have killed you.

Another round of sparring this time Lucillius slashes Lieve’s sword arm.

LUCILLIUS: And that would have severed the tendons in your arm. Rendering you helpless.

They spar further. More and more Lieve is able to avoid or deflect Lucillius’s shots. But Lieve calls for a break.

LIEVE: This is fine for delaying my death but how can I win?

LUCILLIUS: When you think your opponent is tired or frustrated start closing in. Here lift your sword.

Lieve does.

LUCILLIUS: Now try to catch my blade with your own.

Lucillius swing with a wide downward arc and Lieve manages to catch the lower blade of Lucillius’s sword near the hilt of his own.

LUCILLIUS: Now, see how off balance I am? With all your strength push my weapon to the side then drive forward into my gut and twist the blade.

They try it, in slow motion, and Lieve actually makes contact with Lucillius for the first time.

LUCILLIUS: Again, faster.

They repeat the sequence at normal speed and, once again, Lieve blocks the incoming blade, shoves Lucillius’s arm sideway then pokes his sword into Lucillius’s chest, just below the bottom of his chain mail. He makes a fierce twisting gesture as the point of his blade makes contact. Lieve looks to Lucillius for approval and Lucillius smiles.

LUCILLUS: Enough. You have a chance now.

LIEVE: You truly believe so?

LUCILLIUS: In the end our fates are in the gods’ hands. But we can help the gods decide by our actions.

The light is fading and the guards light a few torches outside the cells.

LUCILLIUS: But for now, sleep. Rest is what we both need to be prepared for tomorrow’s challenges.

LIEVE: Thank you for caring about a poor farmer’s son.

LUCILLIUS: It is I who should thank you. I needed a task to divert my mind from my own impending trials.

LIEVE: I’m sure you will win.

LUCILLIUS: I am glad of it. Now, may the god of sleep grant you a peaceful slumber.

Lieve lies down on one of the two crude cots in the cell. Lucillius begins to remove his armor and the leather-covered shield from his back. When he is finished he too lies down.

INT. EMPEROR’S PRIVATE BATHS. NIGHT.

The emperor’s private baths are constructed of opulent marble. Columns decorate the wide room and, interspersed between them, are exotic plants and life-sized sculptures of various humanoids. The statues all appear to be of gladiators, but all their faces are frozen in a mask of fear. In the center of the room is a large steam-heated marble bathing tub built into the floor. The emperor enters, wearing an opulent robe. His face is a mask of concern. He approaches the bathing tub and, seen only from the back up, discards his robe. He steps into the pool and sits down, letting out an audible sigh.

WOMAN’S VOICE(O.S): What troubles you my lord?

The Emperor looks up and the camera follows his gaze to see a beautiful woman in a slinky robe approaching him. This is the EMPEROR’S CONSORT.

EMPEROR: Less now that my eyes gaze upon you. Join me.

CONSORT: As you wish.

She steps to the pool, removes her robe then slips into the tub. No nudity is shown. She sits across from him, smiling coyly.

CONSORT: If you would, I would know what furrows your brow so.

EMPEROR (another sigh): This upstart Eques. I was sure framing him for treason would be the end of him. But he opted for trial by combat.

CONSORT: And that troubles you?

EMPEROR: It should not. I control his opponents. I can’t see him surviving all three rounds.

CONSORT: Who shall he face first?

EMPEROR (smugly): Torr the barbarian. That should be the end of him.

CONSORT (impressed): I should say. 30 wins. All kills. Never resurrected. Rarely healed.

EMPEROR: And, if I have to, I’ll use my favorite pet.

CONSORT: I almost want to see it last that long.

EMPEROR: Bah, the quicker he’s among the land of the dead the better.

CONSORT: Why does a mere Eques trouble you so?

EMPEROR: He’s a military hero. His men call him just and fair. The mob loves him. The mob is always seeking someone to rally behind. And if the army sided with him he could overthrow me.

CONSORT: But does he seek to?

EMPEROR: I can’t risk it. I thought the Lizardmen would be the end of him. Either death or a defeat. But somehow he defeats a force five times his size and returns a legend. No, enough is enough. His death cannot be forestalled. Now, come closer.

She crosses the pool and embraces him.

CONSORT: I can think of a way to clear your mind.

EMPEROR: As you always do.

They kiss.

INT. ARENA CELLS. DAWN

The light of the sun creeps in through the windows and Lucillius’s eyes fly open. Lieve is still asleep. Quietly, Lucillius gets up and dons his armor and shield again.

GUARD (shouting): Out of your beds you filth. First fight in an hour.

He approaches Lucillius.

GUARD (To Lucillius): And it’s your fight. Aren’t you lucky?

LUCILLIUS: What some call luck, others know as destiny. I am prepared for mine.

The guard departs. Lieve is awake and standing.

LIEVE: I want to thank you one more time, while we both survive.

LUCILLIUS: I will know before the day is done. Your fate may take longer to decide.

LIEVE: Yeah. Even if I somehow win today I’ll just have to keep fighting until I die.

LUCILLIUS: Some gladiators have risen above the station. Become a favorite of the crowd and the priests may raise you if you should die.

LIEVE: Not likely.

LUCILLIUS: Now is not the time to lose resolve. Remember what I taught you and you have a chance. That’s all any of us have.

GUARD: It’s time. Get out here.

Lieve looks at Lucillius with a mixture of respect and sadness. He salutes him. Lucillius returns the salute with a look of pride then turns and exits the cell.

EXT. ARENA. MORNING.

The arena resembles the Roman Coliseum. Huge and impressive it is packed with spectators. Most are Humans, though a few Elves, Dwarves, Halflings and one rowdy group of Half-Orcs are also among them. The lower seats, higher priced, tend to hold the well dressed upper classes. Behind them, farther from the action, are the commoners in the cheap seats. In one area is a group of what look like wizards. Varying in age all wear decorated robes. At the far end of the arena, the focal point of the architecture, sit the nobles. An empty throne waits for the emperor with a few seats, far less opulent, sit on either side of it for those the Emperor invites. Though raised up from the floor level there are no seats in front of the throne, instead one of the coliseum’s two large doors sit directly below the throne. The noise of the crowd is near deafening. Suddenly a pair of horns blares out and the crowd turns as one to the Emperor’s seat.

The Emperor, again dressed resplendently, enters followed by his consort. The crowd cheers as the Emperor takes the throne and his consort a seat beside him. The Emperor again releases the tiny metal ball from his palm. Once more it begins to float above his head, circling like the sun circling the world. A hush falls over the crowd. When the Emperor speaks his voice is magically amplified across the arena.

EMPEROR (magnanimous): People of Mitreus your Emperor welcomes you!

The crowd cheer even longer. The Emperor waves for a few moments before continuing.

EMPEROR: Today we see an ancient ritual acted out in this, the modern age. Since the dawn of our nation Trial by Combat has been available to the nobles to acquit themselves from injury. Today’s combatant stands accused of dire crimes indeed.

There are boos, but are they booing Lucillius? Or are they booing that he has been charged?

EMPEROR: Today Eques Lucillius, military hero and warrior-

The crowd cheers. The Emperor ignores them, though there is a momentary crack in his pleasant expression, and continues.

EMPEROR: -will face three foes. If he can defeat all three then he will be acquitted of all charges and returned to his rank and station.

More cheers from the crowd. The Emperor pauses then lets his face fall to regret.

EMPEROR: Of course, should he fail, he will die. And I will be compelled by ancient laws to scatter his remains to the predators, never to be resurrected.

The crowd boos again. The Emperor again grimaces briefly and his consort leans in to whisper in his ear.

CONSORT (whispered): No matter how much the crowd loves him, he’ll be dead soon enough.

The Emperor motions for silence and the crowd calms.

EMPEROR: Bring forth the prisoner!

The doors at the far end of the arena open. A mixture of Guards and Centurions lead Lucillius, unchained but unarmed, into the arena. The crowd cheers for him.

GUARD #2: Their cheers won’t help you now, hero.

LUCILLIUS: We shall see.

He is led to near the other entrance.

EMPEROR: Eques Lucillius, today you fight for your honor, your freedom and your life.

The Guards and Centurions step back from Lucillius and head for the exit. As they get a distance away a Centurion tosses a long sword on the ground behind him.

EMPEROR: Arm yourself Eques Lucillius, and prepare for your first opponent… (pause) Torr the barbarian!

The crowd reaction is mixed, as Torr has many fans. Lucillius lets no emotion show in his face as he turns and picks up the sword. The doors beneath the Emperor open and, from within, out steps Torr the barbarian. Torr is in leather armor and holds a large, two-handed battle-axe over his shoulder. Torr is grinning confidently. Lucillius is impassive.

EMPEROR: Gladiators to the ready! To the death!

He reaches up and plucks the metal ball out of the air.

Torr and Lucillius ready their weapons, a gap of five feet between them. Lucillius does not remove his shield from back. Torr holds his axe in front of him, with both hands, its double blades facing to the sides. Lucillius holds his sword with one arm, pointed straight out in front of him. They slowly circle each other.

Meanwhile, the Emperor and his consort watch. The Emperor summons a BOY SLAVE.

EMPEROR (to slave): Fetch me a meat pie.

The slave bows and runs off.

CONSORT: When does it get interesting?

EMPEROR: When one of them thinks he has the advantage.

Back in the center of the arena the two men circle each other in an ever-tightening ring. Soon they are close enough to strike weapons. They step carefully in the fresh layer of sand that covers the arena floor. The crowd, growing bored, starts chanting “Fight!” Lucillius cocks his head slightly to listen and Torr seizes the opening. He storms forward twisting the axe in his hands so one blade points at Lucillius, parallel to the ground. Lucillius quickly takes two steps back then brings his sword forward aiming for the handle of Torr’s axe, and his hands. Torr has to twist to the side to block blade on blade and he is too off balance to press his strength advantage.

The Emperor watches raptly as he eats a medium-sized meat pie with his bare hands.

Both combatants back off slightly. Torr holds his axe in front of him, raises it slightly, then moves forward, bringing the axe down straight at the heart of Lucillius. Lucillius blocks with his sword but Torr keeps pressing forward and Lucillius is backed up. Torr suddenly steps to the side, pulling his axe with him. Lucillius’s blade slides off the barbarian’s and Torr suddenly swings low and sideways, aiming to sever Lucillius’s leg. But the solider leaps over the blade. He lands as Torr is following through with the swing. Lucillius stabs with his sword, just cutting into the leather covering Torr’s abdomen.

The Emperor looks displeased.

Torr backswings the axe, aiming for Lucillius’s hip. Lucillius manages to jerk his sword back and parry the swing. Both men pull their weapons back and wait, sizing each other up. The crowd is loud and boisterous. Torr comes at Lucillius swinging down. Lucillius blocks but Torr fires a rapid series of strikes and the solider is just able to block them all. Torr presses in too close and Lucillius kicks him in the kneecap. For the first time Torr shows pain and steps backwards to get out of range.

The Emperor finishes his meat pie. There is sauce all over his hands. He whistles loudly and a dog comes running to him. He uses the dog as a napkin then sends it away.

For once Lucillius takes the offensive, Moving in, jabbing with his sword in front of him. Torr swings his axe sideways, knocking Lucillius’s sword to the side. But the longer, heavier axe has more momentum and continues sideways even as Lucillius lets it brush his sword aside before swinging low. His blade strikes Torr’s thigh, cutting through the armor enough to slice through the skin. There is blood on the blade when Lucillius withdraws his sword. The crowd cheers wildly at the sight of blood.

The Emperor’s face slips to anger, then he remembers to fake a smile.

Torr takes a moment to look at his wound then he seems to become angrier. He charges at Lucillius, axe at his side and Lucillius must jump to the side to avoid it. Lucillius manages to swing his empty left hand and punch Torr in the hip as he passes. Torr stops himself and turns, spitting in rage.

EMPEROR: Damn it Torr, kill him!

CONSORT: Just in case he doesn’t who is the next opponent?

EMPEROR: Not who, what. It’s a surprise my dear. One I hope you never see.

Torr again charges, axe at the side. This time Lucillius drops and rolls backward to safety. Torr stops himself as Lucillius springs back to his feet. Torr sweeps the axe at Lucillius’s chest but Lucillius blocks with his sword. As Torr presses forward with the axe Lucillius uses his free left hand to punch Torr in the wrist. Torr draws his arms back and Lucillius swings low. The tip of his blade cuts a swath across Torr’s armored stomach but cuts only leather not flesh.

Torr shifts his axe to one hand and uses his reach advantage to punch Lucillius in the jaw. Momentarily dazed Lucillius stumbles as Torr swings the axe with one hand. His swing is clumsy but the flat of the blade slams into Lucillius’s mailed chest. Now it is Lucillius’s turn to show pain as the impact drives the wind out of him. He retreats, gasping for breath and Torr grabs his axe with both hands and charges. He closes, axe raised to decapitate Lucillius but the soldier drops backwards and the axe sails above him. Lucillius twists in the sand and catches Torr’s leg with his own, tripping the barbarian to fall face first into the sand. But, in the scuffle, both men lose their weapons.

The Emperor watches.

CONSORT: Torr will kill him with his bare hands.

EMPEROR: Let’s hope so.

CONSORT: If the gods decree it.

EMPEROR: Forget the gods. I decree it.

The two men grapple on the ground, struggling for dominance as the roll around. Torr winds up on top of Lucillius and tries to crush his windpipe by pressing his forearm into his throat. Lucillius manages to grab the big man’s arm with his hands and hold him off. As they fight, neither one gaining ground, Torr speaks in a gruff voice.

TORR: You are a hero to your people. Even my people have come to respect you in battle. I will give you death with honor.

LUCILLIUS (straining): That’s your problem. You fight with honor.

Lucillius drives his knee into Torr’s genitals. The barbarian cries out in agony and rolls on his side clutching himself. The crowd explodes, most cheering, some booing. Lucillius, showing more speed than we have seen so far, grabs his sword and severs Torr’s throat to the spine. Torr’s eyes go wide as he gasps and blood pours out of his throat. Seconds later, he dies.

The Emperor jumps to his feet barely able to contain his anger. The crowd is loud, most cheering but Torr’s fans, and bettors, are anguished. Lucillius stands, his sword dripping blood. The crowd starts chanting “Raise him!” The Emperor releases the magic ball again. When he speaks the crowd hushes.

EMPEROR: Torr the barbarian was a noble combatant. I hereby decree…(pause) He shall be resurrected to fight again!

The crowd cheers wildly. A group of priests run out on the arena floor and pick up the barbarian’s body. The Consort leans in to whisper to him.

CONSORT (whispered): See? They cheer you as well.

The Emperor motions for silence.

EMPEROR: As for you Lucillius, you are entitled to one rest period between your matches. Do you choose to take it now?

Lucillius shakes his head no.

EMPEROR: Then you must fight immediately.

The priests have just gotten the body off the field.

EMPEROR: Battle two, Lucillius. Arena Keeper, bring forth the Ogre!

The audience reacts with shock but Lucillius simply holds his weapon impassively. The doors beneath the Emperor open once again and we get our first glimpse of the (CGI) Ogre. It stands eight feet tall, grotesquely muscled, wearing only skins for armor. Its face is ugly and bumpy it’s prominent brow making it look dim-witted. It’s teeth are large and ill-fit its mouth. Behind it a group of Centurions with pikes are prodding the beast forward. In it’s massive hand it holds a primitive club, fashioned from a tree trunk, four feet long. The Ogre sees Lucillius and growls in anger. It doesn’t wait for the Emperor to give the signal, it moves at him right away.

The Emperor grabs the metal ball floating above his head and turns to the slave boy.

EMPEROR: Another meat pie.

The Ogre comes at Lucillius and swings the club low. Lucillius is just able to sidestep. The creature’s huge weapon and reach advantage leave Lucillius too far away to use his sword. The Ogre steps closer and swings the club down at Lucillius’s head as if trying to swat a fly. Lucillius jumps to the side. The club smashes into the arena floor sending sand flying. Lucillius quickly swings his sword overhand and cuts into the huge wrist of the beast. The wound is shallow but the Ogre roars in pain and withdraws his arm quickly.

EMPEROR: He can’t win here too…can he?

CONSORT: He’ll never defeat your pet. You have nothing to fear.

EMPEROR: True. And then I’ll have a new decoration.

The Ogre tries to kick Lucillius. The soldier is able to back away enough the Ogre’s toe just catches his chest. He again swings his sword as the Ogre pulls his foot back. Lucillius’s blade just catches the big toe of the creature and opening a four-inch gash. The Ogre only grows angrier and again brings down the club. Lucillius barely dodges in time.

The Emperor eats his second meat pie. He is no longer even trying to hide his displeasure with Lucillius’s continued success. Then we get a strange POV shot of someone slightly drawing back the curtain behind the Emperor and watching him through the crack.

Lucillius again tries to hack at the Ogre’s arm but it seems to have learned and draws back more quickly. But Lucillius moves in as well and, as the confused Ogre draws back its club Lucillius manages to stab it in the thigh. The Ogre roars again and swings the club sideways. Lucillius is too close to dodge but also close enough that the Ogre only gets a short swing and the base of the club, near it’s hands, is what connects with Lucillius’s mailed side. Lucillius screams in pain as he falls on his side. The Ogre, unsure if the soldier is still a threat, limps closer, club at the ready.

The Emperor grins.

EMPEROR: This should end it.

In pain and breathing hard Lucillius places his free left hand down on the arena floor. The Ogre raises the club-and Lucillius hurls a handful of sand into its eyes! The crowd roars in support. The Ogre drops its club and clutches at its eyes, blinded. Fighting pain, Lucillius jumps to his feet and swing his swords in a side arc. The blade slices through the abdomen of the Ogre. Still half blind it looks down to see its intestines spilling from its chest. It frantically grabs them and tries to scoop them back in. Lucillius backs away his face full of pity rather than triumph.

The Emperor’s face falls. He slams his fist down on the arm of the throne.

The mighty Ogre sinks to its knees as flood and innards coat the sand of the arena floor. Ten burly looking guards rush onto the arena floor to carry away the corpse. The crowd is on their feet as the beast finally slumps forward, dead. Lucillius turns to stare coldly at the Emperor. The Emperor can no longer hide his disdain and, as he speaks, we get some reaction shots of the crowd looking confused and even upset at their ruler.

EMPEROR: Lucillius, you are a great warrior, but you are also a traitor. The gods will not allow you to survive your final round. Still, I am obligated to offer you a rest period now. Do you wish it?

Holding his ribs in pain Lucillius nods.

EMPEROR: Very well, guards, take him to the prisoner box. He can rest during the next battle. And, I think the next battle will interest him.

Two Centurions lead Lucillius out of the arena.

EMPEROR: Slave! Another meat pie.

CONSORT (gently chastising): That’s your third.

EMPEROR: Very well, a fruit pie instead.

CONSORT: What is it with you and pie?

EMPEROR (defensive): I like pie!

INT. VIEWING CELL. DAY

Lucillius is thrown into a cell just 4X4. It has no furniture. It’s only prominent feature is a barred window that looks out on the floor of the arena. Lucillius takes a place at the window and watches the arena.

EMPEROR: Bring out the next combatant.

The far doors of the arena open and the guards lead Lieve into the arena. Lucillius’s face falls but Lieve looks even more forlorn. As he reaches the center of the ring a guard hands him a short sword. Lieve wears only his farmer clothes, no armor, no shield.

EMPEROR: And the opponent, former tournament winner Prell.

The doors beneath the emperor open and out steps Prell, a 6’6” Orc wielding a bastard sword (a sword designed and balanced so it can be used with either one hand or two). Prell wears a ring mail tunic. The crowd boos, except the contingent of Half-Orcs who go wild supporting their favorite. Lieve gazes at the Orc, a full 7 inches taller than he is, and gulps. We see Lucillius watching.

LUCILLIUS (shouting): Come on lad, don’t give up before it starts!

It doesn’t appear Lieve hears him.

EMPEROR: Gladiators to the ready! Let battle begin!

The Emperor again palms the magical metal ball the sets it down on a small table next to his throne. There is an assortment of strange shaped dice on the table as well.

Prell seems to be chuckling as moves in on Lieve who lifts his sword timidly. Prell grasps his sword with both hands and charges, sword raised high. Prell brings the sword down at Lieve’s head, aiming to split him in twain. Lieve manages to twist to the side and just avoid the blow. Using his shorter weapon he tries to move in and stab Prell but the Orc swats him aside with the flat of his blade. Lucillius watches with concern.

LUCILLIUS (to himself): Too soon. Too soon. Let him tire himself out.

The Emperor also watches with concern.

CONSORT: And why does this match concern you?

EMPEROR: That farm boy was Lucillius’s cellmate. The guards tell me he tried to train the lad to fight. I want Lucillius to see him die. That should break his spirit.

The Emperor eats his date pie. We get another shot from behind the curtain. This time we can hear breathing. Someone is watching.

The Orc switches his sword to his right hand and slowly circles to Lieve’s left side, trying to flank him. Lieve tries to twist his body to keep in front but his feet slip in the sand. The Orc moves in, swinging for Lieve’s head. Lieve manages to duck, though the Orc’s sword chops off some of the hair from the top of his head. Lucillius manages a small smile.

LUCILLIUS (to himself): Good lad, good.

The Emperor does not look concerned as he finishes his pie. He whistles for the dog but it doesn’t come.

EMPEROR: Damn mongrel.

He wipes his hands on his clothing.

Lieve lunges, sword extended but the Orc manages to parry. The Orc draws back its free left hand and punches Lieve hard in the nose. There is a sound of crunching bone and Lieve’s nose, obviously broken, begins to bleed. Lieve steps back and wipes the blood from his nose. Lieve is closer to Lucillius’s window than he has ever been before. Lucillius shouts to him and Lieve actually hears.

LUCILLIUS (shouting): You can take him Lieve! Remember your training!

Lieve draws strength from his words and steels himself to battle the approaching Orc. Prell grasps his bastard sword with both hands, holding it up and to his right. He tries a cross swing, without much power, and Lieve actually blocks it. Lucillius cannot contain a shout of joy. The Orc’s left side is wide open, Lieve could easily at least punch or kick him but instead he backs off. Lucillius’s face falls.

LUCILLIUS (to himself): Don’t just use your sword lad. You’ve got fists, knees, feet.

The Orc charges, swinging the sword overhand and down at Lieve. Lieve sidesteps and thrusts with his sword. It catches the base of the Orc’s ring mail, bouncing off harmlessly.

LUCILLIUS (to himself): Lower lad, up and under the armor.

Prell pushes Lieve away with his left arm then swings the sword sideways at chest level. Lieve manages to parry once again but the force pushes him backwards.

The Emperor looks impatient.

CONSORT: It seems the soldier’s training has made a difference.

EMPEROR: The farm boy will be dead soon enough.

Lieve swings his sword at the Orc’s ankle. The Orc manages to step over it but the blade cuts the sole off his shoe.

LUCILLIUS (to himself): Good try lad. Good try.

Prell looks angrier now, like he’s now taking his opponent seriously. He grips his sword with both hands and swings sideways, trying to decapitate Lieve. Lieve raises his sword at his side, angled up and towards his head. Prell’s sword slides along his, with a hideous grating sound, and arc off above Lieve’s head. As it slides off the end of Lieve’s short sword Lieve is able to pull it sideways and cut a deep slice into the Orc’s left arm. Lucillius cannot contain a shout of pride.

The Orc steps back, holding his sword with his uninjured right arm. He looks at the cut in his left arm, dripping blood even worse than Lieve’s broken nose. Rage wells in his eyes. He lets out a frustrated roar then attacks. Swinging the sword one handed in a flurry of blows at Lieve. But Lieve has his sword up and manages to deflect every blow. The Orc roars again and launches a sweeping side swing.

LUCILLIUS (shouting): Now lad!

Lieve puts his training to use, blocking the incoming sword near the hilt of his own. Grabbing his right wrist with his left hand he shoves the Orc’s sword backwards then drives his own towards the base of the Orc’s ring shield. It seems about to find its mark, just under the armor, when it stops. Lieve looks down to see the Orc grasping his right wrist with his left hand. Lucillius sees this and his face falls. In his throne the Emperor smiles.

Despite the injury to its arm the Orc uses all the strength it can muster to twist Lieve’s wrist. There is a snapping sound as bones break and Lieve’s sword drops to the arena floor. Lieve cries from pain and fear.

The Emperor looks on, pleased.

Lucillius looks on hopeless.

The Orc brings its sword slowly to Lieve’s neck then turns to the Emperor. The crowd is booing loudly. The Emperor again releases the magic metal ball and addresses the crowd.

EMPEROR: We shall let the fates decide!

He reaches down and picks up an odd eight-sided die from the table beside his throne. Words are written on the die’s sides such as “DEATH”, “EXILE” and “SPARE.” He makes a theatrical show of rolling the die on the table. A close-up shows us the die reads “SPARE.”

EMPEROR: The fates say…Death!

Lucillius slams his fist on the bars of his cell.

There is another shot of the watcher from behind the curtain’s point of view. From where the viewer stands they can see the true results of the die.

Weeping Lieve closes his eyes as the Orc draws back his sword. With one swift motion the sword cleaves Lieve’s head completely from his body. The head rolls in the stand then stops, facing the camera, eyes glassy and face caked with blood. Lucillius looks out at the head then salutes it, a single tear running down his cheek. The door to the cell opens and a Guard pokes his head again.

GUARD #3: Come on. Time to die.

LUCILLIUS (trying to hold back the choking in his voice): We shall see.

GUARD #3: No question about it. I know your next opponent.

LUCILLIUS: Who?

GUARD #3: Not who, what. And that’s all I can say for fear of losing my tongue. Now come on.

EMPEROR: People of Mitreus. It is time for Lucillius’s final battle. If he wins here then, by all the gods, he is a free man.

Lucillius is once again led into the arena.

EMPEROR: His opponent is very special. My own pet-

There are loud murmurs through the audience.

EMPEROR (continuing): The Basilisk!

Boos start in the audience, Lucillius is impassive.

EMPEROR: A beast with a gaze that turns all who meet it to stone. And, by imperial decree, no victims of my Basilisk may ever be restored to flesh. Warden, bring forth my pet.

The doors beneath the Emperor open once again and a bizarre creature enters. It looks like a brown lizard, with tough scaly skin. It has six stumpy legs, lifting the creature only about three feet off the ground. Sharp claws extend from each of its feet. From head to the base of its tail it is six feet long, the tail adding another 3 feet. There is a metal drum around its neck, the top of which is covered with a thick cloth. The neck cage on the creature restricts it from looking up more than slightly, protecting the audience from its deadly glare. But for those on the arena floor there is no safety. Several guards and handlers use pikes to herd the creature into the arena. One unlucky soul has to remove the cloth from over the creature’s head. The guard closes his eyes as he removes it but he’s slow taking the cloth back and the creature manages to bite his arm. He screams in pain but makes the mistake of opening his eyes and looking into the Basilisk. His expression turns from pain to horror as his skin quickly begins to turn gray. He tries to look away but his body is barely responding. He manages to half turn his head but it is too late. He freezes in place, what once was flesh transformed to solid stone. The crowd boos loudly.

CONSORT: Another stature dearest.

EMPEROR: But not the one that matters.

Leaving their now stone companion behind the guards retreat and close the door.

EMPEROR: Let the battle commence!

Lucillius removes his shield from his back for the first time. He tosses aside the leather covering, revealing a gleaming polished shield that is as reflective as a mirror.

EMPEROR: Damn!

Angry, the basilisk turns its attention to the only prey in sight, Lucillius. Lucillius holds the shield in front of him, angling it towards the beast. He is able to see the beast reflected in the shield and thus avoid having to look directly at it. The Basilisk charges, it’s teeth dripping venom.

CONSORT: What happens if the Basilisk sees it’s own reflection?

EMPEROR: Nothing. It wouldn’t be a fearsome beast if it turned to stone every time it drank from a stream.

The Basilisk snaps at Lucillius’s leg. He jumps, eyes still on the shield, then swings at the beast’s back. But the right/left reversal of the reflection confuses him and he misses by a wide margin.

CONSORT: If it just bites him the poison should kill him, right?

EMPEROR: It should.

CONSORT: But what if he wins?

EMPEROR: Impossible.

There is another shot of someone lurking behind him.

The crowd has started chanting for Lucillius. It appears the Basilisk has no fans. Lucillius tries to circle the beast, to get in the blind spot created by the beast’s metal cage. But it is able to pivot around using it’s tail for support, side stepping quickly, still facing the soldier. Lucillius tries another tactic, he rams his shield into the face of the creature, blocking the end of the cage over its head. The creature hisses in fury as Lucillius swings with his sword and cuts into its upper front leg. The Emperor shows genuine concern when his pet is hurt.

EMPEROR: Kill him my pet! Kill him.

The Basilisk rears back on its hind legs and tail, knocking Lucillius backwards. Lucillius instinctively raises the shield to cover his eyes as the creature comes down on him with its sharp claws. They rake across his shield and the mail shirt he wears. The force knocks Lucillius backwards a few steps but leaves him otherwise unharmed.

CONSORT: It’s like the gods are protecting him.

EMPEROR: Curse the gods, I want him dead!

The figure behind the curtain lets out a small gasp, unnoticed by the Emperor and his Consort.

The Basilisk snaps at Lucillius’s leg. It’s teeth catch Lucillius’s boot but do not penetrate. Lucillius swings down with his sword but catches the metal guard on the beast’s neck rather than its scaly skin. The beast snaps again, this time hitting shield. Lucillius makes a fighting withdrawal, moving back towards the arena wall. As he reaches it the Basilisk rears and tries to claw him. Lucillius steps to the side and the beast hits the wall, balanced on its rear legs and tail. Tired as he is, Lucillius moves behind the Basilisk and chops with his sword. The blade hits the creature’s tail, slicing off a foot long length. The Emperor is almost apoplectic.

CONSORT (sad) It’s lovely tail.

EMPEROR (with controlled rage): It will grow back.

The Basilisk screeches in pain as it tries to turn around. Blood is seeping from its tail and its balance looks off without it. Lucillius backs off as it turns, snapping at him. Lucillius tries a wide swing at its head but he’s too high. His sword catches on an iron ring welded to the top of the Basilisk’s neck guard where its chain is normally attached. There is a loud ringing sound that is heard throughout the coliseum. The sword resonates in Lucillius’s arm sending a numbing shock up its length. Lucillius tries to back away, shaking out his sword arm, but the beast claws at him, catching his right leg just above the boot and clawing into the flesh and muscle. It is Lucillius’s turn to cry out in pain.

The Emperor lets out a shout of joy.

EMPEROR: Now, finish him off!

Lucillius backs away, favoring his left leg. He looks at the wound, bad but not debilitating, yet. Lucillius again positions his shield so he can look at the beast’s reflection as it slowly moves in again. The beast comes in low, aiming to bite Lucillius’s injured right leg. Lucillius crouches. As the beast comes in Lucillius grabs the ring atop its neck guard and leapfrogs over the beast’s snapping mouth. He lands on the beast’s shoulders, legs astride it and, like a practiced horseman, swings his body around so he faces the beast. The Basilisk tries to rear back to throw him off but, with it’s injured tail, it can’t balance and Lucillius holds on.

EMPEROR: No, no, no!

Lucillius lifts his sword, point down and, as the beast comes back down to the ground, he shoves it down with all his strength, the momentum of the beast hitting the ground adding to the impact. The sword drives deep through the center of the beast’s neck just behind the neck guard, pressing clear through the other side, until the hilt hits the dying beast’s neck. The Basilisk tries to cry out but gurgles as blood floods its windpipe. The Emperor is aghast. The crowd is roaring.

The Basilisk slumps forward. But Lucillius is not done, he turns the sword clockwise, cutting through the beast’s neck until he finally severs the head completely. It’s rear legs kick one last time before it slumps down dying. Angling the beast’s head towards the ground he steps off its corpse and, limping, turns to face the Emperor. The crowd is chanting his name.

The Emperor turns to a nearby pair of guards.

EMPEROR: Lower my gangplank.

The guards produce a long wooden gangplank and set it in front on the Emperor’s box so that he can descend to arena floor. He does, as his Consort looks on with concern, and the guards follow him, weapons drawn. Lucillius does not move, his face impassive, the crowd still chanting his name. The Emperor strides towards Lucillius and his dead pet.

EMPEROR (furious): No! No! You will die. No matter what this antiquated ritual says. No matter what the gods say! Who are they to question my will? I didn’t go to all the trouble of framing you to have you live on a technicality!

The crowd has turned completely and are shouting and booing. The guards and centurions scattered through the arena try to suppress the crowd but it looks like a riot is imminent. The Emperor looks confused.

LUCILLIUS: Forget something?

He points up. The Emperor looks up to see the metal ball still floating above his head. In fact, it had been for the entire third match.

EMPEROR (shouting): What does it matter? This rabble mean nothing. I am the Emperor! I am a living god! No man may ignore my decree! What do you say to that soldier?

LUCILLIUS (dryly): Smile.

Lucillius lifts the head of the dead Basilisk, pointing its eye at the Emperor’s. The Emperor’s face falls, expressing disappointment, fear, regret… It is the last expression he will ever have as his body rapidly turns to stone. The soldiers manage to avert their eyes just in time. The Emperor’s Consort screams. She turns to the guards.

CONSORT: Kill him!

VOICE (from behind the curtain): Hold!

At last, the stranger lurking behind the curtain steps forward. He is an elderly man in ornate priestly robes, which mark him as the PONTIFUS MAXIMUS of the empire. The crowd quiets considerably. We see the Pontifus also has one of the magic metal balls that amplifies his voice.

PONTIFUS MAXIMUS: Lucillius, you have succeeded at trial by combat. As Pontifus Maximus, high priest of the empire, I alone can speak for the gods. And the gods have decreed you innocent.

Furious, the Emperor’s Consort yells at the Pontifus. Her voice is loud enough that his magical amplifier picks it up and broadcasts it across the arena.

CONSORT: But he killed the Emperor.

PONTIFUS MAXIMUS: The law states a gladiator cannot be prosecuted for what he does in the arena.

CONSORT: That’s insane! Wait…you can restore the Emperor. Do that and let him speak. By the gods, you must!

PONTIFUS MAXIMUS: Why should I help him “by the gods”? The very same gods he just cursed? The Emperor’s own decree was that victims of his pet can never be restored. Only an Emperor can reverse that decree and, at present, we have none.

CONSORT: No! No new Emperor will ever restore the old one!

PONTIFUS MAXIMUS: Most likely true. Speaking of restoring, the Emperor found you as a temple virgin, did he not?

CONSORT: Yes. So?

PONTIFUS MAXIMUS: And he never married you.

CONSORT (worried): No.

PONTIFUS MAXIMUS: Then I revoke your special permission to leave the temple. I hope you haven’t grown used to a life of luxury. Guards, take her away.

CONSORT: No! NO! Damn you…damn you!

The guards drag her away. The Pontifus turns to Lucillius, advancing down the gangplank towards him with a robustness that belies his age.

PONTIFUS MAXIMUS: Now as to you.

He reaches Lucillius, he looks at his still bleeding leg with concern then makes a series of arcane gestures while mouthing unintelligible words. His hand begins to glow with a soft golden light and he reaches down and touches the wound. Lucillius winces at first but his expression immediately changes to relief. The glow intensifies and we see Lucillius’s leg wound close up leaving no sign of a wound beyond the blood already on his leg.

LUCILLIUS: Thank you.

PONTIFUS MAXIMUS: You have proved yourself a champion of the gods and the people today Lucillius. As Pontifus Maximus I have a great deal of influence in selecting the next Emperor. You are a hero. A great military leader. A fair and just man. Perhaps you would consider taking the throne yourself?

The crowd cheers insanely loudly until Lucillius lifts his hand to silence them. As he speaks the Pontifus’s magic ball amplifies his voice.

LUCILLIUS: I have seen what politics does to good men. I have no interest in it.

The crowd is highly disappointed.

PONTIFUS MAXIMUS: Then what will you do.

LUCILLIUS: In Mitreus I will be a legend. And legends attract enemies. No, I shall donate my fortune to the empire and leave.

The crowd boos.

LUCILLIUS: I will go somewhere they have never heard of me and start a new life, far away.

The crowd is booing.

LUCILLIUS: People of Mitreus, I have served you most of my life. You will always have a place in my heart. But I am a simple man. I seek a simple life. Please, if you can, respect that.

The crowd turns around and starts chanting his name again. He turns to stare at the statue that was once the Emperor. He allows himself a small smile as he turns to wave to the crowd. Lucillius turns towards the far exit but the Pontifus places his hand on Lucillius’s shoulder and points towards the Emperor’s gangplank. The Pontifus takes him up the gangplank to the Emperor’s private area. Lucillius turns once again to wave in appreciation to the crowd then he and the Pontifus turn and exit.

As the credits play we see Lucillius, dressed much as he was for the entire film, walking on a deserted road accompanied by a mule laden with his remaining belongings. He continues walking, as the score plays, until the end of the film.


End file.
